X-art - Double Daydreams - - Jenna Ross -1080p-.mov

The Santa Monica loft was all glass and golden light. Jenna Ross stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a cup of coffee cooling in her hand, watching the fog burn off the Pacific. It was 7:03 AM. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be on a plane to New York for a casting call that felt less like a dream and more like a sentence.

Sloane traced the line of Jenna’s spine, and Jenna arched into the touch like a flower turning toward the sun. “You’re shaking,” Sloane whispered.

They moved as if the air had turned to honey. Sloane guided Jenna backward toward the massive sectional couch, but Jenna shook her head. “The bed,” she murmured against Sloane’s lips. “I want to remember this in soft focus.” X-Art - Double Daydreams - Jenna Ross -1080p-.mov

Jenna looked down at the woman in her arms. She thought about the plane she’d missed. She thought about the version of her life that was supposed to be sensible.

“Because it’s 7:03 AM on a Tuesday,” Sloane said, stopping inches from her. “And you’re still wearing my favorite sweater. The gray one that falls off your shoulder.” She reached out, her fingertips brushing the soft wool. “That’s not a coincidence. That’s a sign.” The Santa Monica loft was all glass and golden light

The first kiss was soft—a question asked after six months of silence. But the second kiss, the one that happened when Jenna’s hands slid into Sloane’s hair, was an answer. It was desperate and forgiving and tasted like salt from tears neither of them had shed yet.

The bedroom was a mess of unmade sheets and polaroids taped to the wall. Jenna pulled the gray sweater over her head as Sloane unbuttoned her linen shirt. There was no rush. This wasn’t a frantic reunion. It was a double daydream —two women moving in parallel, finishing each other’s thoughts with their hands. She wasn't supposed to be here

Jenna didn’t move. “You’re a ghost.”